Chapter 24 #2
“To address an issue, but not the issue. Isahn has some memory of being in Gramenia, but nothing after, to the best of our knowledge.”
Nods bounced around their circle.
Hildy continued, “I’ll free him. Pose as a fellow prisoner or a disgruntled servant and get him out.”
“He doesn’t trust anyone right now. Why you?” Dunstan asked.
Wynnie crossed her arms over her chest. “How will you explain being in Domos?”
“What will you do to address his memory issues? He has a mission,” Adda chimed in.
“Do you mean ‘get him out’ like, out of Domos and never to be seen again? Or...?” George sniffled.
For once, Burke didn’t have a question.
“First, no, George, not ‘never to be seen again.’” Hildy took a deep breath before she continued, “Second, to address Adda’s concerns, I know he has a mission, and I intend to help him fulfill it.
We need to beat Peros to Selwas and find the tapestry.
I have no clue what to do about the memory issue.
“That brings me to third, Dunstan’s and Wynnie’s points.
Why me? Because we were friends once, and I can get us there again.
I’m sure of it. I have nothing keeping me here.
I’m least likely to be missed and best equipped to travel for a while outside of the city.
I’ll explain to Isahn that he was captured in Sorhaven by Domossan spies.
He was brought here, mindmolded to forget, and I took pity on him.
I’ll come up with a backstory for myself. That’s the least of our worries.”
“You’ll only have your sound magic. No mirages. It’s too dangerous.” George shook her head. She wanted to call the whole thing off. Bring Isahn back through the veil, make him remember... somehow. Make him fall in love with her again.
“What about the borders?” Burke asked, expression tense.
“I’m paler than you lot, with light enough hair. I can pass as a southern Gramenian, too. Get me papers like Isahn’s, and we’ll be fine.”
Dunstan nodded, apparently convinced. “So, we’re not doing any mindmolding, but you’re going to convince him he has been.” It wasn’t really a question. The man had full faith in Hildy, despite their romantic entanglement coming to an end.
“He has been. By the veil,” George said bluntly.
Burke asked, “How are you going to convince him to work with us?”
“I’ll stick close to the truth. He made it to Sorhaven, following his uncle.
There, he was taken captive, brought to Nowosmont, where he met me, a fellow captive fighting against the Crown.
He told me his whole story, and we compared notes before his memory was wiped by you lot.
” She swung her finger around, pointing at each of them.
With a dramatized sneer, she added, “Sycophants of King Gasparo, of course.”
“That’s insane,” Burke announced.
“The best lies always include a grain of truth,” Wynnie murmured.
“Precisely. Thank you. This is why I love you.” Hildy cracked a smile at Wynn.
“We’ll find the tapestry, and I will bring Isahn back to you, George. I promise.” Hildy awaited her approval.
George worried her lip. “None of this is ideal. But it’ll have to do.”
“We’ll keep busy while they’re gone,” Wynnie promised. “We’ll research, figure out how we can fix Isahn’s memory.”
Dunstan bobbed his head in agreement.
“I’ll go with you,” Burke announced.
“No, you won’t. I’ll be perfectly safe. And you have guard shifts at the palace. You can’t leave.”
Burke grumbled, but acquiesced.
“When you need a break, join me in the kitchens, Georgie. I’ll teach you how to cook.”
“We’ll keep busy,” Wynnie reiterated.
George sighed before turning to Hildy. “When will you make your escape?”
“Midnight.”
Before anyone could react, Georgie spun and paced toward the villa. “I need to see him. No one follow me. And”—she held up a hand without turning around, cutting off both Hildy and Burke, who’d started to protest—“I’ll mirage myself, don’t worry.”
She slipped into the lower cellar of Villa Senone. Her ruddy skin and thin brown hair provided a secure mask for her sadness to sulk behind. This particular persona would remain unemotive. It was the safest option.
George considered asking Hildy to join to change her voice. But it wasn’t like he remembered anyway. She pulled open the cell door and stepped inside.
The prisoner, her earl, sat on the edge of the cot, chained at the ankle, with his feet planted firmly on the floor. The bed was in a different spot, the stone a different shade of tan; otherwise, it was just like when she first released him at Villa Manolay.
But not like that at all, her mind countered morosely.
The inner corners of his eyes tightened as he tried to figure her out.
She stared right back, soaking in every detail of him: the wave in his hair, the stubble softening his sharp jaw, his oceanic eyes.
The flicker of tension in his forearms as he flexed his hands—those hands, the way he touched her, the way he held her, the way he loved her.
“Who are you? Why am I captive?” Isahn asked, calm and measured.
Safe behind her mirage, tears welled in George’s eyes. “Who are you?” she countered, starting toward him, craving his arms around her shoulders, his hand rubbing circles on her back. Catching herself, she planted her boots on the stone floor.
“Why am I captive?” he asked again.
“You tell me.”
He laughed, and it was a dry, humorless sound. “Wish I could, ma’am.”
George didn’t know what to do, what to say. She shouldn’t have come down here without her friends—without a plan. Forcing herself to turn away, fighting that magnetic pull calling her to Isahn’s side, she moved toward the door, each step leaden.
He was really gone.
Her heart wrenched free of her chest, shriveling up and plummeting to the floor. Every tiny dream George had convinced herself was safe to leave alive scrambled for cover, trying to hide. The sense of comfort that had embedded itself in her everyday life, the safety she felt in his arms, gone.
All that remained were the flattened husks of her aspirations, her desires, and one charred and smoking crown with her name on it.
Her duty was to the people of Domos, to all the people of Duhra, including Isahn.
Come tempests or travesties, she would claim that fucking crown and set things right for once and for all.